Something Borrowed

Chapter 21

We should leave, he ought to say. His mother ran a brothel, so they'd be vermin no matter where they went. There was no escaping that. But things had gotten so much worse these past few years. That goddamn preacher had stirred up hate like Gabe hadn't seen in all his years of living beyond the outskirts of decent society. It was vicious, animal hatred-- all that loathing people normally reserved for their own tattered, soiled souls turned outward and projected at his home. His friends. His family.

They needed to leave and go somewhere where the hate was normal, but when he opened his mouth to say it he couldn't form the words. Because if he fled the preacher he'd be fleeing her. Them. If he left town, he'd be leaving all the memories they shared and the future they'd dreamed up in their youth. The plans they'd made before maturity and rules tore them apart and consigned them to a life of shadows, secrecy, and guilt.

"We should leave," he said through his teeth, his jaw hinged shut as if his body was rejecting the words as strongly as his heart.

His mother only smiled.

"We aren't going to leave," she said. "We don't run from our problems, Gabriel. If we do, they'll only follow us."

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and forced his shoulders back as he shoved to his feet. "We'd better get started," he said, eyeing the sky. "It looks like there's a storm coming."

Amelia

"Woah, ease up. Hold them loose," Josh said urgently, placing one hand over hers while he used the other to tug some of the excess forward, giving the horses more slack. He was right. It was a heck of a lot colder in the front of the sled.

But she was driving!

Melissa lay in the back beneath a pile of blankets, sound asleep. It was near noon, and they'd spent the entire night and most of the morning helping Vivian make arrangements. Amelia had talked the landlady at the boarding house into opening up a room for the three most severely wounded of the victims. The other five, who were injured but not so badly that they needed constant care, would be staying in the rooms she, Josh, and Amelia had intended to use at the hotel. The rest were hiding out at the sheriff's office until night fell, when Josh would return to ferry them back, under cover of darkness, to the ranch.

"Will your father approve?" she had asked when he'd told her, and he'd snorted out a humorless laugh.

"He wouldn't if he found out," he'd explained. "Which is why we're not going to tell him. He manages the books, but I haven't seen him down at the complex in years. I'll tell the men to keep it quiet and he'll never be the wiser."

Amelia was dubious, but she didn't guess he'd risk the girls' safety. If he planned to shelter them at the ranch, it was only because he genuinely believed his father would never find out.

She adjusted her grip on the reigns, forcing herself to hold them more loosely. It seemed unnatural that she should let the horses have so much freedom. What if they decided to sprint off a cliff or down a steep hill? She'd have no way to control them.

"How am I supposed to steer them?" she asked, tugging her scarf down to speak.

"Gentle tugs," he answered, his voice still a little rough from the smoke. She made a mental note to brew him some tea when they got back. With honey. She'd make enough for both of them, and she'd pester him into sitting and conversing with her while they drank it. "But you really don't need to steer right now. They know where they're going."

"So you mentioned," she said wryly. "But what if they forget the way home and go tearing off down that hill?" she gestured at the steep slope off to their left and shuddered at the thought of the sled tipping and rolling over, crushing them beneath it.